


Sharp

by Justcannibalthings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dogs, more bad writing, that it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justcannibalthings/pseuds/Justcannibalthings
Summary: Russia has declared martial law, England has fallen to anarchy, the white house has been overthrown. This is our last broadcast, We’re out of oil.





	

12 years later

Sharp, cool…quick. The blade pressed ever so slightly into my neck, soft enough not to draw blood but hard enough to press against my Adams apple, just enough to make it hard to breath. It reassured me, in a strange sense, that this was real. My life is real. When you’re everything it can be hard to distinguish between past and present, it all just blurs together like the skyline in a Da Vinci. Nevertheless, I continue. Forcing myself to keep walking, to keep trying, to keep breathing.

I do miss them, my family, I don’t remember my mom if I’m honest, and it saddens me but I can’t do anything about it now, and not remembering her face doesn’t stop the pang in my chest when I think of her. Ironically it is the fact that my father was such a loving one that ultimately caused his death. And I know what you’re thinking, that was rather blunt wasn’t it? Well I’m not the kind of person who hides in the comfort and lies that clichés like ‘oh he’s in a better place now’ seek to give. They’re dead, not sleeping.

More than anything, thinking about them makes me angry and the sad thing is, I’m angry at them for abandoning me. Yes, I know it’s selfish, they had no say in their deaths but I’ve been alone for so long now I really don’t know what compassion is anymore. It’s when you’re alone that you start to question what exactly it is that makes you human. The animals of the forest keep me company, I actually found a young fox cub and it’s been living with me for about a year now. I call him shadow. But I digress; my point was that all my interaction comes from animals now, and they aren’t exactly demanding socially.

It is while my brain has gone off on this tangent that I realise I have lowered the knife. I decided fairly quickly to continue getting ready and slip it into its holster (I made a makeshift one to attach to my belt, I’m rather proud of it as it’s held up quite well) Shadow gets up when he sees me pick up my rucksack and is behind me when I exit through the wooden top I use as a door.

The forest is lush and dense, the trees have grown exponentially since the riots and nature as a whole has really thrived. I push through until I reach the stream. The river that snakes through this forest is honestly something that I will never tire of; it looks like a scene from a nature documentary. Dears drink from this river and it’s a great place to hunt, but that’s not why I’m here. The water is a deep blue and the sound of it running downstream is extremely relaxing, it calms me and I can feel the thoughts from earlier wash away with the water. This river doesn’t just have the benefit of providing a water source or a place to clear my head though; it also acts as an excellent accelerant for herbs to grow, herbs I can use for medicines, or just to make food taste better. Even venison loses its appeal after a while.

I sit by the bank to pick the herbs growing along the edge; some of the weeds that grow in water actually taste pretty good, and are surprisingly nutritious, I suppose it’s a result of them growing so close to the river. I soon have a collection of gentle blues and vibrant reds and greens in my rucksack, it didn’t take long today, I sit for a while but I can hear a humming in the distance and it just sounds out of place, like a nursery rhyme in a horror movie, so I turn back.

I can’t see anything. It’s so dark and I can’t see anything. I can hear a voice though, it’s soft and feminine and so familiar. I can barely hear it over the thumping in my ears; I’m actually concerned that my heart is going to break out of my chest. I call out to the familiar voice but the response is a scream so horrific and raw that I awaken.

I sit up and cover my ears, the sound is deafening but it isn’t screaming. It sounds alien to me, it’s something I’ve heard before but when and where I can’t fathom. Now that my heart has stopped trying to break open my rib cage and I can think a little clearer I push the door up.

“No”


End file.
